


Fastidiousness and inexperience.

by Dontgotone



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Filthy, Force-Feeding, M/M, Overweight, Prisoner of War, Slobdom, Watersports, slob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 18:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12238494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontgotone/pseuds/Dontgotone
Summary: Fortress Maximus has isolated himself from his crew on his ship to ensure that if his latest prisoner, Overlord, gets free, he won't be able to take any other hostages.Pretty quickly, Overlord realizes that his jailer will care for him as much as possible to ensure that he can't be accused of negligence or harm to him, which could affect his trial.Ever the master manipulator, Overlord takes advantage of this to introduce Max to some new experiences





	Fastidiousness and inexperience.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a request.   
> Please ensure you read tags and warnings, this one isn't for everyone.

Fortress Maximus scowled as he stepped towards the cell's door. The plate he was holding was almost dripping with various sauces. At first, he'd simply offered the inmate a feeding tube, but the rebellious hedonist had sucked on it so much the whole system was scrapped, and he actually needed to cook. Worse, he refused to eat anything Max brought him unless it was this… Greasy, disgusting slop. Just looking at it made his engine feel like clogging, slices of some organic grain barely holding in junk level energon and organic meats, slathered in sauce thicker than a swamp.

But he needed to make the inmate eat, or he'd be charged with neglect, and, as impossible as it seemed, the terror might make his way through the system without seeing a real prison. He wouldn't let that happen. As long as he had that monster in custody aboard his ship, Fortress Maximus would pay attention to every rule and bylaw in the book to make sure the creep didn't get away scot-free.

How he managed to eat this slop, however, much less request it, was beyond him. He'd tried making himself a serving of it once, just out of curiosity. He'd only managed one bite. He couldn't tell where the bread stopped and the sauces or meats began. The energon was such low quality that it burned his glossa. He forced himself to swallow and it felt like he was pushing a slimy ball of grease down his throat. His systems protested, warning signals flashing on his hue that he'd ingested something foul.

Fortress Maximus had spent the next hour bent in half, arms against a console, fans venting at full capacity. He could feel the slimy chunks breaking down inside, carried through his pipes and very nearly clogging them several times. He'd had to rev his engine to the point of smoking to get it fully through, and even once it had been fully broken down he felt queasy and dirty all day long. But it was the only food his captive accepted, so here he was with the steaming, sloppy plate, stepping into the cell.

"Inmate, time to eat." 

The cell was only decorated with the cot in the corner, creaking dangerously under the weight of its occupant. Overlord had swollen to an impressive size from his diet, plating split and spread out by softer mesh ballooning out. His chest plate couldn't keep in the thick, heavy tits, and his waist and upper thighs were hidden by the rolls of his prodigious gut. Various stains marked those rolls, from coolant to sauces to what he hoped wasn't transfluid. And as always, the prisoner wore an irritating smirk. His full lips parted in a pleased sigh as he saw the plate he was being brought, and he looked down on Max even from his sitting position, clearly enjoying this whole ordeal.

"Well well, looks like you've mustered up yet another perfect meal, officer." he mocked, but he wasn't reaching for the plate as he usually would. "But unfortunately, we've run into a little dilemma. We're almost to the destination, but you can't just show me off in this sorry state… You'll be accused of neglect for certain. Just look at me." Overlord lifted one of his prodigious breasts, pointing out the greasy film underneath. But Fortress Maximus wouldn't let it get to him.

"You're perfectly capable of washing yourself. So long as you're healthy I don't care what you do or don't do."

Only, now that Overlord was grinning at him so confidently, Max could see the problem. The bot had… swollen a lot since he'd been placed in captivity. And now his arms barely reached the first roll of soft mesh over his hips. No way Overlord could wash up his lower half. Why he hadn't said anything before then, well, probably just so he could spring it on him now. 

The decepticon had the infuriating gift of timing things to always happen on days where Fortress Maximus was certain he couldn't take any more from him. He wanted to beat the other bot so bad… but he had to make sure everything was up to code. Reluctantly and with more than his fair share of grumbling, the officer of the law grabbed a washcloth from its drawer and placed the plate of food on the berth, next to Overlord. 

"So dutiful, here, I'll help." 

Maximus paused, warily eyeing the prisoner as he leaned back and hefted some of his weight, holding up enough of his chest that the warden could see the greasy film in the deepest crevice between the various rolls of belly and hips. He took a moment to center himself and then reached in with the cloth, determined to do a good job. He used one arm to hold the flab above his head, gagging at the strong scent. It was like an organic in here. He could feel his forearm and elbow dig into the soft mesh even as he reached further in to start scrubbing. Almost immediately it felt like he'd need to change cloth. The greasy film that seemed equal parts coolant fluid and slimy liquids had a scent that felt like his intake was clogging up. 

And then Overlord chuckled, apparently the monster was ticklish and shifted. The sudden movement made Fortress Maximus' arm slip, the weight he'd been holding above him crashing down like a wave. He struggled, feeling the greasy film that had stuck to Overlord's mesh stick to him, cover him. It smelled foul and tasted worse, and worst of all both of his arms were pinned against him in awkward places, neither in a position to allow him to push himself free. He was trapped here, bent in half between Overlord's knees, face smudging against the disgusting mesh of his belly and struggling to get out from between the overweight rolls of the prisoner's body. 

He heard Overlord Laugh, maybe even say something, but everything was too muffled for him to understand. He tried to shift again, tried to push, but the mesh just shifted and slid against his fingers, keeping him wedged in. He didn't have enough purchase on the floor to back away. He could have transformed, maybe, but that would almost certainly hurt his prisoner, and even this hellscape of a situation wouldn't convince him to give it all up because of that. 

And then he felt it land on his back. Juicy. Thick. Warm sludge that splashed just over his exposed hips and ran down his struts. Where it leaked into his seams it felt like he'd never get clean. He felt like it would clog his cogs and gum up his servos, and then there was another splash, this time from less high. Maybe it had fallen from Overlord's chest instead of his mouth. The bastard was eating his monster of a meal, as messy as he possibly could… and the greasy sludge was dripping down on him, making him shudder and gag and shake his head, unwittingly pressing it harder against the folds of fat mesh pinning him there. 

But under the disgust, the gagging, the burning in his olfactory receptors, Fortress Maximus was horrified to find another sensation. Worse than the slimy filth sticking to his features, dripping into his mouth, leaking into his vents. Worse than the disgusting slop landing on his back on his struts, clogging and slowing his servos. Worse still than the pressure of being pressed in from above and below by fat mesh, a marshmallow sea squeezing him from all angles. 

It was pain. 

A pain he didn't feel too often. Very rarely, in fact. It was the worst kind. 

His access panel felt like it might burst. 

He could feel the heat from behind it, could even see warning signs on his hud. The pressure behind his spike, the fluids he was dripping, everything threatened to have his modesty panel pop clean off, a cramping pain that mortified him. A glance at his hud showed him more warnings, his array was approaching full charge. He was going to go over soon. He fought it back, tried to hold it down, to siphon it to other systems, but there's was so much, he was losing his mind. And then something new was added to the mix, and he lost it. 

The spray was warm, and it hit him from underneath. When he realized what was going on, that Overlord was… That he was _discharging_ on him!! Fortress Maximus felt the heat rise to his optics. His face felt hot, his whole body quivered, he was shaking with rage… And the sparks danced over his modesty plating as his overload went through, making him whimper against the disgusting mesh pressing up against his features. He tasted the greasy filth and gagged, certain that it had stained his glossa forever, but all he could do was hope Overlord hadn't noticed. 

Only, of course, he had. He could hear his laughter. Feel it, jiggling the world around him. The movements actually helped, shaking the warden out until he had the leverage to push and shove and get himself out of the prisoner turned prison. Maximus landed on his back, too tired in the heat of the moment to stand. He could still feel the greasy film all over his upper body, his face, his arms. Could feel the dripping slop leaking down his back struts, his hips. And now, worst of all, he could feel the mess of transfluid dripping down out of his modesty panel, leaving him red-faced as he looked up at his prisoner.

Fort Max needed a moment to recover. He could still feel the slime over his face, his threads. The gunk that had dripped down his chassis felt like it was clogging his gears. He was still a bit in a daze from the shock of the overload… And there was Overlord, looming above him, laughing heartily and holding onto half of the sandwich. There was so much of it left, even with all that had dripped down the bot's chest plate, staining the metal.

And then he saw that form swell, grow bigger… no, no wait not bigger, _closer_. 

His protests were drowned out by a pained grunt when the prisoner's weight fell on him, pinning him to the ground. He'd lifted his arms to try and push the other bot away, and now they were pinned to the ground, a terrible position with no leverage. He even tried to rev his threads, but there wasn't enough traction to take him out, not with the squishy mountain of soft mesh keeping him down. 

"Oh no, it appears I've fallen and can't seem to get up."

Maximus felt his frame creak under the weight of Overlord's squirming, the other bot apparently taking great pleasure in leaning forward so his jailer's head was entirely smothered by the soft flabby mesh overflowing from his chest plate. Max could feel his vents speed up, trying to pull in any air as his prisoner's cooling fluids and mess dripped in and clogged them, slowing the process. He struggled, shaking his head left and right, but all that did was dig him deeper into the slimy crevice pushing down on him. 

"You really seem to be enjoying this, Mister Warden, I can feel your charge. Are you… are you assaulting me instead of aiding me? What a cad~"

He tried to protest, to voice his anger, to tell the other bot to roll off of him, but opening his mouth was a terrible mistake. The taste of sweat and sauces dripped in and had him convulsing, gagging, desperately trying to get out from under Overlord. By the time the bigger mech did lean back a little, freeing just Max's head, he almost didn't notice. His mouth gulped in air, but his vents, working as hard as they could, felt slow and sluggish, like he'd poured glue in them. 

"Get off me!" ��"Are you sure? It feels to me like you're the one close to getting off."��Fortress Maximus was without an answer. The moment the other bot mentioned it, he realized it. The pressure against his modesty plating wasn't only from Overlord's weight. He could feel how wet his thighs were, how much pressure there was pushing against the plating. The charge was… alarmingly high. He could feel it in the air, and the more Overlord leaned back and forth on him, the more painful his modesty plating felt. The harder his vents working. The more his frame creaked and cracked under the weight, the more his body protested, the harder it was not to let that building charge overwhelm him. 

It spiked when Overlord took a bite of his meal, the sloppy sandwich gushing its thick miasma of sauces down over Fort Max. The mess dripped down his face, over and into his vents, clogging them even further. Max was having a hard time focusing. The taste made him gag, and the smell of it was overwhelming. But he still managed to keep his embarrassment under control. It was getting harder, he had to spend more and more effort to stop that charge from overwhelming him instead of trying to get Overlord off of him. 

"Is the big bad prison warden getting too excited? It's not hard at all to just… let go and enjoy yourself." ��Now Overlord was actively enjoying this, leaning in close until they were almost nose to nose, Max's chest plate cracking dangerously. He could feel the pressure on his vents, on his spark. It only made his charge spike and almost go over. But the psychopath wasn't nearly done with his humiliating treatment.

"I won't even tell anyone, promise. I- … Hurk… Brrrraaaaaaaaapppp"

The hot air slammed into him like a hammer. Max gagged, crying out, his vents stuttering, unable to pick closing off from the foul burp and continuing the desperate work of pulling in air. The warden was starting to think that this was it. He'd die here. He couldn't take any of this anymore. It was too much new, intense sensations, he wasn't ready to handle any of them, much less all of them. 

And then Overlord's hand was pushing past his gasping lips, a clump of meat and sludgy energon stuffing its way onto his glossa. 

His optics staticked, the food sliding down to the back of his throat where he swallowed it reflexively. His cod plate was a complete mess under the prisoner's weight, Max's charge having gone over his control while he tried to process the intense, disgusting taste of what he'd been feeding his prisoner. It left him in a daze. He could feel it stop in his throat, his system having to chug and try really hard to force it down into his tanks. Even though it passed, he could _feel_ the ooze, the slime of its passage clinging to his internals. 

Evidently, he had been too focused on the experience, on the awful sensations leaving him panting, since there was another clump pushed into his mouth. Overlord was feeding him his disgusting slop, and when he tried to stop it the criminal leaned into and clamped his mouth against Max's own. At this point, Max's system was running on fumes. Two overloads, so much struggling, trying just not to get crushed, and now with the food being forced down his throat. 

His whole being was overheating, his vents clogged or blocked, or just working at half capacity or less if they could suck in any air at all. The food felt like it was clogging his system, his spark _ached_, and his processor felt… slow. Sluggish. He felt halfway to recharging, nothing was moving as he wanted when he wanted it to. And to top it all off, the most deplorable bot he'd ever seen was locking lips with him, glossa forcing the disgusting slop further down his throat, very pointedly pushing against and around Max's own and forcing him to keep tasting the slop. 

It was too much. Far too much. Fortress Maximus blacked out, the taste of defeat and sensation of having soggy cement flowing through his tubes following him into unconsciousness.


End file.
